Farewell
by SallyCarefree
Summary: One morning, Neal told his handler: Peter, from now on I need to go to Colorado twice a year. He understood it would be difficult to convince his handler. But once Burke had heard the full story, he might be willing to consent. He had to. Cut a long story short: Alex is dying and Neal had given his word to do her a favor and didn't plan to break it. No fluff. Death of character.
1. Chapter 1

People are like stained-glass windows.  
>They sparkle and shine when the sun is out,<br>but when the darkness sets in,  
>their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within.<p>

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

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><p>AN:<p>

This story is quite different from my usual stories.  
>There is absolute no fluff. It's sad to no end. And please don't expect any sudden turn. Alex is going to die in this story.<br>So if you're looking for a light reading, this is not what you want.

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><p>"Peter, from now on I need to go to Colorado twice a year."<p>

The senior agent stared at him somewhat perplexed. "Are you drunk by any chance? Right now, you should consider yourself lucky that you've not been sent back to prison – for good."

He was still mad about Neal's recent criminal activities and wasn't willing to accept them as an act of friendship carried out with the best intentions.

The CI looked deadly serious and was stone-cold sober. He understood it would be difficult to convince his handler. But once Burke had heard the full story, he might be willing to consent. He had to. Neal had given his word and didn't plan to break it. No matter what.

**Two weeks earlier...**

A courier service delivered a small card board box to June Ellington's residence, addressed to Neal G. Caffrey, without details about the sender.

The ex-con man has had long day at the FBI working cold cases in the filing cabinet. He was miffed about the boring task. His complains about having a dust allergy or undue hardship have been ignored. Therefore, Neal's mood was low when he took the package from his landlady and the mysterious box offered a most welcome diversion.

The anonymous sender and the unknown, very forceful handwriting held a lot of promise. Besides, he was desperate for a challenge to kill the boredom.

The box weighed little and when Caffrey took of the lid, he found a red origami crane. There was a short note included in the box as well. Neal didn't need to read it to figure out who had sent the package. Origami cranes had been Alex's signature ever since he got to know her.

The card contained an urgent request. "I need to see you. Please come. I have no time to spare. Alex."

Although the message was written in a scrawly hand, it was without a doubt Alex's handwriting, whereas the address details on the backside of the card have been written by the same person who labeled the courier package. Mount Sinai Roosevelt Hospital in Midtown Manhattan. There were also details given about the floor, ward, room number and visiting hours included. The ex-criminal concluded that a nurse might have written it.

The plain and straightforward message was frightening. Neal realized at once that these were no good news. Moreover, his old friend might be in danger or misery.

No, he didn't like hospitals or sickness in general, but he wouldn't ignore this plea. If his friend asks for his help, the ex-con wouldn't refuse. The last time Alex and he had parted, hadn't been on amicable terms. Despite all that, their friendship went back a long way surviving more serious trouble before.

Right after work the next day, Neal made a detour to Roosevelt Hospital on his way home.

The ward didn't look as ugly and daunting as you might have expected. Walls painted in dazzling colors with decent art prints; not the usual smell of cleaning or disinfection solution, instead an air freshener called up memories of an early summer day. Even the bouquet of flowers in the reception area was real giving a cheerful impression.

So far, so good. Of course, the nurses looked like nurses. Not the type you might find in the wrong kind of movies, but no-nonsense professionals. Apparently, the patients hanging out in the hallway looked obviously sick, too.

Neal found the room he was looking for and entered after knocking.

"Alex!?" Neal was overwhelmed. The woman he spotted in the bed was Alex. However, she didn't look like the Alex Hunter he knew. If he hadn't expected to find her here, but rather had met her in a coffee bar, he wouldn't have recognized her at first sight.

She was pale with dark circles around the eyes, irritated skin, yet a radiating smile on her face when she caught sight of her visitor.

"Caffrey, you came! I had some doubts whether you might be still sulky after our last encounter." Alex looked at him inquiringly.

Neal rejected her concerns with a shrug. "You took quite a sudden leave. Just like in the olden days. That's how we are. By the way, I like your hat, very Grace Kelly-ish."

A large white straw hat covered her hairless head, in addition she wore an elegant silk scarf which hid most of her blue and black arms.

Despite the consternation he felt, Neal kept a light tone. "I guess it's pointless to ask if you're okay. But anyway, how are you?"

Beating around the bush had never been Alex's style. "I'm dying Neal. There's nothing to be done about it."

Her friend wasn't willing to accept the inevitable. "Hunter, this is a hospital. You're here to be cured of whatever disease you were stricken with. You're negative mood is obstructing your self-healing powers. You have to think positive."

Alex shook her head sympathetically. "Caffrey, can't you read anymore? You must have seen the big sign when you entered the ward. _Palliative care unit_. Denial doesn't help. I'm affected with cancer and far beyond treatment. I'm here to spend my last days in dignity enjoying the best pain medication money can buy."

The young man just sat there staring at her, lost for words. So, she went on.

"I had my final chemo last week. Unfortunately, radiotherapy isn't helping either. Melanomas have spread all over. It's time to accept the facts and settle my affairs." Her eyes were sad, but she seemed to be very determined.

Neal wasn't so cool. "How can you be so calm? This is awful. We should ask Mozzie; he might know a specialist or untested medication. We should leave no remedy untried."

However, the terminal ill patient was less than thrilled. "No! No shaman, no spiritual healing, no exotic drugs or herbal cocktails. I don't have the time for this nonsense.

I can't deny the facts. I'm not angry anymore, stopped bargaining with any deity available, even made it almost through depression. Now, it's time to accept my fate. Speaking about time, I don't have any to spare. Please, pull yourself together! I need your help to take care of things. I know it's a lot to ask from you..."

Caffrey couldn't believe this. His friend had always been strong and vital, bursting with energy, as willing to rest as quicksilver.

He didn't know her exact age, but she was probably a couple of years younger than he was himself. No-one was supposed to die that young. The cat burglar had always been careful with the jobs she took on, obviating unnecessary risks. It wasn't fair. She had coped with so many dangerous situations so far, for what? All that to die eventually in a hospital bed?

Alex dwelt on similar thoughts. "I've never imagined breathing my last in a hospital bed, drinking chamomile tea, supervised by a medical team. I've figured it would be something spectacular, like jumping from the top floor of a medieval palace or going down in a blaze of gunfire." She sighed.

Neal cleared his throat. "Believe me or not, it's not easier for the ones you leave behind if you make a dramatic exit, like being blown to pieces in an exploding airplane."

It was hard for him to overcome the pang of grief and anger. However, he sensed that he hadn't been asked to come to exchange courtesies. He had always been quick to adjust to changing circumstances. So, he braced himself. "Tell me, why am I here?"

Thus, she told him the story about Daniel, her nine year old son who was living with her parents in Silverton, Colorado, having no clue about her profession. The son she visited regularly between jobs and whom she loved with all her heart. She loved him unselfishly; therefore, she had long since realized that a young child needed more stability than she was able to give. Her parents were kindhearted people who raised Danny with love and affection. He was good in school, played baseball and his granddad had built him a tree house in the garden. A perfect childhood.

Today was full of surprises. Neal tried to collect his thoughts babbling away. "Your son? I didn't know you're a mom. Wait! He's nine. He can't be... I'm not... I can't..." His confusion was obvious.

His baffled look made Alex guffaw. "No, you're not. Don't worry. You're not his father."

This question was answered, but the reply provoked the next question. "Then why am I here?"

The sick woman locked eyes with him. "His father is a miserable son of a bitch, so the best I can do for Danny is not to tell him about his dad - even more important, not to tell anyone else about him. It was a fling, no happy love affair. That douche bag has no clue about his offspring, and we'll all better off if it stays like this."

Within minutes, Neal had gone through an emotional rollercoaster. Being a father would have been strange, but not completely unwelcome. Only, it wasn't meant to be. There would be another time for him, time to build a family, time to become a father. Someday soon, when he was once again free to roam and find a love for himself.

"So, how do I come into play? How can I help?"

"My parents are kindhearted and caring and good as gold. Only, they've told Daniel that I'm an art historian leading a dull live in research projects in faraway museums. I don't want him to grow up thinking I've been a bookish sissy or, even worse, forget me completely.

I need someone to tell him how I really was without giving away to many incriminating details, of course. Someone teaching him to enjoy life and what really counts, like friendship. Even more important, that his mom was an extraordinary beauty."

Neal chuckled. "Goes without saying... Hm. Let's see... Art historian. That's material I can work with. A treasure hunter, a female Indiana Jones, rescuing the jewel of the Nile. When he's a bit older, I'm going to tell him how we both have extracted the Victorian necklace in England, a little bit glossed over, for his own sake."

"Oh yeah, please skip the details when I had to leave the duke's castle in the middle of the night, dressed in a translucent nightgown, chased by a mob of domestics armed with deer rifles."

Caffrey was a trifle annoyed. "Come on, I'm a con man. I know how to tell a good story without incriminating anyone. Don't worry. You'll be his hero. He will know that you danced with princes, dined with world famous opera stars and fought the bad guys. No-one was able to resist your allure.

I'll tell him that you were held hostage by dangerous criminals for an amber music box. I'll tell him his mother has been a bit crazy, but extremely good at what she was doing, and her heart was in the right place."

Now, Alex couldn't stop the tears running down her face. "Thank you, Caffrey. I owe you one. It means a lot to me."

But Neal wanted to know why she had picked him. "Why me? I'm a criminal. I've ditched you for Kate, and I'm not on the top ten list of responsible people. Truth be told, not even on the top ten thousand list."

Yet, his old friend hasn't chosen him without consideration. In fact, she had even picked this hospital because it was in his two mile radius. Therefore, the FBI consultant would be free to visit her without asking anyone for permission. She had planned it carefully.

"I don't have many friends. Not really easy to make friends in our industry... Of all the crooks, criminals and cons I've met you're the only decent one. You won't let down a friend. What is more, I figured you might understand how much a young boy might be longing for some stories about the parent who has died too early. After all, you grew up without your father yourself."

Neal nodded silently, unable to speak right now. She was right with that guess.

As an afterthought, she went on. "Not to forget, you might teach him how to dress with style, tie a tie and wear a hat. I don't want him to grow into a flannel shirt wearing hayseed with a full beard."

They spend another half an hour reminiscing, telling each other stories about cons they had pulled, good jobs and bad jobs. Finally, Alex was tired, obviously needing rest. Neal promised to return the next day.

Walking home, the finality and enormity of the news, he just learned earlier on, began to sink in. He might not have talked to Alex regularly over the years, but he always knew she was there. So, if he wanted to get in contact, he only had to find a way. She had been around, somewhere. She won't be any longer. She would be gone, for good.

No-one who knew the truth about what had happened years ago in the palace Amalienborg when they had found the music box for the first time.

No-one who shared those foolish memories of playful flirtations, the kind you only experience when you're young and haven't been disappointed by life yet.

No more surprise origami messages.

No more Alex.


	2. Chapter 2

Live, so you do not have to look back and say: 'God, how I have wasted my life.'

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

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><p>He didn't sleep well that night. Neal hadn't hesitated to comply with Alex's wishes. And he didn't regret taking on the responsibilities, only he had some doubts as to whether he would be able to meet them. Just a couple of days ago, he had entertained the idea of running off to Mexico, leaving New York plus the US jurisdiction behind for good. On the other hand, there was still the imminent risk that Peter would send him back to prison.<p>

Until now, he had disappointed everyone who was close to him at some point. Kate, Sara, Ellen, Moz, Peter, Alex. They all have been his friends, yet he has let them down.

However, it was an absolute no-go to walk out on a child. From now on, he'd have to change. Whatever he might decide to do would affect not only himself. If he'd run or get caught or hurt committing a crime, he wouldn't be able to visit Daniel.

After losing his own dad, Ellen had been the most important person in his youth. Therefore, Neal understood the importance of his task. He was afraid to fail, but he was willing to try all the same. Maybe, just maybe, Peter Pan had to grow up eventually.

Alex had asked him to keep her presence a secret. She didn't want to see anyone else.

Accordingly, Neal dwelled on his thoughts tight-lipped the next day. His handler was quite grateful that he hadn't to bear any wailing about boring cold cases. Burke interpreted it as a good sign that Caffrey was focusing on work.

Neal went once again to visit Alex at the hospital after work. And he returned the next day, and every other day of the week.

He brought his sketch-pad to portrait his friend. While he was making some sketches, both of them chatted, laughed about old anecdotes, or sat together in silence.

Although Alex had been living in Tuscany for the last 2 years, she hasn't gone into early retirement. Thanks to some profitable jobs, she had stashed away enough money to provide for Daniel's future. He won't have to worry about tuition or buying his first car. She told Neal about the numbered account in Switzerland and the bank vault in Manhattan where some valuables were stored securely. She trusted him to use the resources carefully for Daniel's needs.

On some evenings, Alex was barley responsive after taking heavy doses of morphine to suppress the pain. One of these days, Neal sat there, holding her hand silently. He looked at the familiar hand, now withered, irritated and skinny, with bruises from too many injection needles. Life could be a bitch.

The former criminal had worked up the strength and the love to sit with his dying friend in the silence that goes beyond words. He didn't realize it at the time, but this experience molded his determination to make his own life count, make it worth its while.

Alex deteriorated day by day. So as per her request, Neal contacted her parents. They would come to New York next Friday, bringing Danny along. They all knew what this meeting was about.

The visit went as good as possible under the given circumstances. When Neal met Daniel, they hit it off. The boy was impressed by the charming man who had traveled the world and knew so many stories to tell. Vice versa, the sophisticated grown up was enjoying the innocence and curiosity of the child.

The poor kid was heavy-hearted when he learned about his mother's imminent death. However, he was only nine years old and didn't really understand the meaning of forever or alone. It would hit him soon enough with full force...

But for now, he could be distracted with a little effort. So, Neal took him to the zoo and the Natural Museum of History where he showed him the big T-Rex. Caffrey told him that he had helped to rescue the dinosaur as part of his job as historical art consultant for the FBI. The boy was mightily impressed learning what art historians do for a living.

Meanwhile, Alex used the time to discuss the necessary next steps with her parents, and they took farewell. Kissing your child goodbye was a damned hard thing to do. No matter if you were 30 years old and your son was 9, or if you were 55 and your daughter was 30 years of age.

They left on Sunday afternoon to return to Silverton. Her mother wanted to take her girl back home, but the latter refused. Her home wasn't in Colorado anymore.

Alexandra Hunter planned to die in New York. Her body might rest wherever her parents deemed it fit because she didn't care where she'd be buried. That way, her family would have a grave to do their mourning. Only, she wanted to draw her last breath in the city she has learned to love, which was so unmistakably alive.

The weekend had taken its toll. The sick woman was exhausted, emotionally as well as physically, needing a break. Caffrey understood this. So, he stayed away for a couple of days to give her room to breathe.

He used those nights to complete the portrait he had made. It showed Alex in hospital with her Grace Kelly hat, warm eyes and an enchanting smile on her face. It was going to be the picture that would spring to her son's mind whenever he remembered his dying mom in the years to come.

Alex was overwhelmed when she saw it Wednesday evening. She felt better though a bit melancholic.

"Thanks Neal. Thanks for the picture and your promise to visit Daniel. Yet even though I'm grateful, I hate the thought that you will be able to see my son growing up, whereas I'll be gone soon. Sorry, but as you know, I've never been famous for my unselfish character. I don't wanna leave, not now, not in the next 50 years. I feel so angry considering all the things I'm going to miss. I've always wanted to steal the Hope diamond, and I've never robbed the MOMA. It's a shame."

Neal chuckled. "Sorry to crush your childhood dream, sweetheart, but someone else took already care of the Hope diamond. Someone very clever, and smart, and talented, of course."

Alex smirked. "You didn't! You're a showoff. But that's alright, you and me both. We both have lived a bold and adventurous life. I don't regret much. Ok, the time I spent in that Greek prison, I could have done without it. As for the rest … the thrill of a con, the suspense before you crack a safe or break into a building, I loved it, and I loved the reward, the bling-bling, the shiny goods, the luxury. I've never wanted a boring life in the suburbs. I got what I've wanted, so I don't complain."

She fell into a fit of coughing. After a while, she kept on talking, her voice almost a whisper.

"Knowing that I will never again sit at the Piazza San Marco or drink a cocktail in the Rainbow Room hurts like hell. Never. Ever. I won't hear the birds singing in spring or admire the rave of colors in autumn. No ice cream in summer, no mulled cider in winter. No summer or winter for me at all. I won't be there when my baby will be lovesick for the first time, never hear him speak after voice break, never know if he's going to be a dentist or a carpenter, have no chance to pester a daughter-in-law."

She was crying openly now, dropping the mask of strength and bravery she had worn for weeks. She didn't want to die. Not a bit.

Neal was lost for words, so he just moved over to lie right beside her and hold her tight. Before she drifted off to sleep, he reassured her in a low, though very determined voice.

"I can't stop your pain or save you from dying. But I won't break the promise I've given you. I will keep contact with your son and keep you alive in his memories as long as I live. I will try to protect him from doing something really foolish and will make him do at least some foolish things because life is lost without some foolishness. I can be a reckless bastard, granted. But I won't be when Danny is concerned."

He stayed with her until she was sound asleep. Although, she probably didn't hear him, he bid her farewell nevertheless. "I will not say goodbye to you. I will rather say 'Au revoir…' To another time my dear!"

Late at night, when Caffrey sat on his rooftop terrace, sipping a glass of wine, he saw a falling star; one of a million lights in a vast sky that flared up for a brief moment only to disappear into the endless night forever.

And somehow, he just knew that Alex's room would be empty when he'd return to the hospital tomorrow.

So it didn't come as a surprise when he found a deserted bed and a packed suitcase. A nurse told him that patient Hunter has died in her sleep the night before. Her parents had been informed, and they have already made the necessary arrangements to transfer her body to Colorado.

Neal appreciated the friendly environment the nurses had created for his friend during her last weeks. Although they had only done their job, they had done it with kindness, warmth and empathy. He ordered a huge box of Alex favorite dark Belgian chocolates to be sent over to say thank-you.

Now that Alex was dead, Neal felt free to talk about her disease and death.

Moz grieved for her, in his own way. He did it quoting Michelangelo, _'Death and love are the two wings that bear the good man to heaven._' He shared with Neal a bottle of wine as well as memories in remembrance of their dead friend.

The very next morning, Neal approached Peter at the Bureau to enlist his help in order to keep his promise.

"Peter, from now on I need to go to Colorado twice a year."

The senior agent stared at him somewhat perplexed. "Are you drunk by any chance? Right now, you should consider yourself lucky that you've not been sent back to prison – for good."

Then, agent Burke listened to the story his CI told him without interrupting him.

He'd never expected to see the day when his young consultant took on the responsibility for another human being with all consequences by his own free will. It was difficult for him to believe, but apparently, Caffrey had actually changed. Or at least, was about to change.

Neal tried to act cool, though he was nervous about Peter's reaction. If Burke refused, he would have to wait until he had served his sentence to see Daniel in person. They would still have phone calls and Skype, whereas that wouldn't be the same.

Once Peter was convinced that Neal spoke the truth and was not pulling a con on him, he made up his mind without hesitation. "So, I guess Washington has to wait a bit because we're going to Colorado next week."

"Next week?" Caffrey was amazed.

"Yep, the funeral. I guess you wanna be there for Danny. You won't be able to go on your own, so I'm coming with you. We'll have to work out something for the future, but we won't be able to overcome the bureaucrats in the shortness of time."

Neal hadn't expected this reaction. Instead, he had been geared up to work out some kind of bargain in order to go to Colorado. When he looked at Peter now, he caught a glimpse of their former friendship.

Maybe losing one friend would help to recover another, long-lost friendship. "I'm going to need even more help from you. Daniel might come to visit me in New York. He's a nine year old boy. Probably, he wants to see a Yankee game. I have no clue why they run around in funny costumes hitting a ball with a bat. Having an expert around would be nice."

"I could do that."

"Unless you're in Washington then."

"I won't. And they don't wear funny costumes. It's called jerseys. But you'll learn. We'll be watching enough games that even you will see the light."


End file.
